


WANNABE

by rebelcracker



Category: ITZY (Band), TWICE (Band)
Genre: Blood, F/F, Superpowers AU, based on wannabe mv, twice side characters/cameos, umm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25828204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelcracker/pseuds/rebelcracker
Summary: ryujin only wanted a normal life. but for three years, she's been chased by choi industries, a company that wants to destroy all people like her - superhumans. at first, it seems there's nothing ryujin can do but run. but when she begins to find other young women harboring superpowers like her, she might have a chance to end it - for herself, for her new friends, and for everyone that may follow.based off of itzy's "wannabe" mv
Relationships: Shin Ryujin/Shin Yuna
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. RYUJIN - LOVE ME OR HATE ME

**Author's Note:**

> hi midzys!  
> i'm rebelcracker, as you've probably guessed this is my first itzy fanfiction. i planned to release it sooner but life slapped me in the face and before i knew it it was one week to the comeback... so here's chapter one. very late.  
> enjoy!  
> p.s. visit my pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/24sparkssa/wannabe-itzy-fanfiction/

Tonight Ryujin finds herself in the part of the city that people avoid whenever they can. The only good thing about it is since no one ever comes here, it's a good place to lay low. The streets are always empty; there are no cars and no pedestrians huddled under the one working streetlamp. A row of buildings line the (north? West? Northwest? Ryujin doesn’t know) side of the road, the front of a cheap excuse for a shopping plaza. One has a door that swings open and closed freely, its rusted doorknob keeping it from closing.  
In other words, this place is just begging for Ryujin to enter.  
She pokes her head in. The shop is darker than the streets outside. Ryujin has to strain to make out the outline of a hallway, several doors, and a rack piled with food (she’ll have to scavenge from that when she’s finished looking around). She takes a few steps into the hallway, scanning for any signs of other people or a security system. On a nearby door, a sign- a bathroom sign- catches her eyes.  
Ryujin’s heart catches in her throat. It’s been forever since she last entered a decent bathroom.  
She opens the door, flicks the lights on and glances around. It's not perfect - two grimy sinks lining one wall, toilets she can smell before she sees, graffiti everywhere - but Ryujin’s been in so many bad places this feels like paradise.  
Walking up to the sink, she tries not to look at her own reflection in the mirror above it. There’s no reason for her to look at herself if she already knows what she’ll see - hardened eyes, dirty face, bright blue hair that refuses to do anything she wants it to. Her appearance is awful and there’s absolutely no way to make it any better.  
Unless …  
Her hair has been brushing her shoulders for months and falling in her face at the most inconvenient times - ten minutes with her trusty scissors and the problem’s solved. Plus, short hair is much easier to manage.  
Ryujin slings her bag off her shoulders, unzips it and digs through the belongings she packed three years ago, pulling out a sharp-bladed pair of scissors.  
There’s no avoiding her reflection now. Exhaling, Ryujin positions herself over the sink and stares into her eyes, then at her hair. She brings the scissors up to one chunk of hair and snips- the severed piece falls into the sink. After staring at it for a moment, she takes a breath, then moves the scissors over and cuts again.  
Hair piles up in the sink. Ryujin’s hair gets shorter and shorter, going from down to her shoulders to just past her chin. When she finally stops cutting, she’s surprised - the cut is actually even. Not to be arrogant, but this is the best haircut she’s had since before she ran away.  
Ryujin sets down the scissors with a sigh. The enthusiasm that compelled her to cut her hair fades away and once again she’s tired, tired of running, tired of living like this. It wasn’t her choice. If there was a way out of this, she would have returned home long ago. And as far as she knows, she’s the only one who has to run. Because the few people who have powers like she does… they’re probably all dead.  
She hasn’t thought about her power in a while. There’s a reason for that. But it’s too late now because she’s cringing at the images filling her mind- times when her power slipped out and she couldn’t control it.  
Nothing like that has happened in a while, though. Maybe now is the right time to try wielding her power again.  
Ryujin looks down at her hands. She could try right now. There’s nothing to lose, and no one’s around for her to hurt.  
Cautiously, she unfurls the fingers on her left hand, lowers the scissors to cut the skin open and summon her blood, and with it her power… then she stops. She’s used her power countless times and it’s never ended well. It’s unpredictable. Uncontrollable. She shouldn’t try -  
The scissors slip out of her hands, nicking her finger before they fall to the floor.  
Cursing, Ryujin wraps her other hand around the cut, trying to stop the bleeding. She begs under her breath for it to stop, but the blood keeps flowing until it leaks out of her and begins to change colors- mustard at first, then navy blue.  
It’s only the first stage. Above her, lights flicker. The room burns a shade brighter, fully visible even when the light flickers out, and the graffiti covering the walls floats off of it like Ryujin’s hallucinating, but she isn’t.  
The brighter color filling the room bends toward Ryujin’s outstretched hands, merging above it in a ball that bobs in the air and whirls around. It’s looking for something, but it won’t find it here. Ryujin knows it won’t. It’ll just vanish and this whole thing will end. Closing her eyes, she holds on to that mantra - this will end soon.  
She takes a deep breath, hoping that will let her power settle. A moment after, her eyes open to a single bright word - RUDE - settling back on the glass. The lights stop flickering; everything goes back to how it looked before. There are no hints of anything happening here - no flying graffiti, no orb swirling above Ryujin’s hands. Even the cut on her finger has vanished without any trace.  
That’s the only benefit to this power: she heals fast. But it’s not nearly enough to outweigh the bad things.  
She doesn’t even know everything she can do. Obviously she’s too afraid to try anything. And she already knows the bottom line of what her power does - hurt people.  
You’re a freak, a voice inside her taunts.  
Ryujin screws her eyes shut as a cruel memory fills her mind - flashes of bright lights and shadows surrounding her, the clarity of a man’s voice blaring above her.  
You are a danger to the world and you know it, he’d said. Every time you use your power, an innocent gets hurt. You must be stopped. If you come with me, the people you love will finally be safe. And isn’t that all that matters?  
She agrees. She definitely does. That was why, hours before the man had said those words, she’d ran away. If there is no one around her, then she can’t hurt anyone. But though she values the lives of others, she values her own too. And she will not die because some maniac thinks her power is so dangerous her life has to end.  
She. Will. Not. Die.  
Ryujin sucks in a breath. She doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. No one will get hurt if she’s alone. And she can’t be caught- or killed- if she’s always moving around.  
She can keep herself and everyone else safe if she keeps running no matter what happens.

Running isn’t easy.  
CI has their drones patrolling the city at any given time, so running into one is inevitable. Fortunately when the drones do find her, Ryujin can do something about it: hack their databases and delete the footage they have before they find her.  
Minutes later, she sits in the back of an internet cafe. She’s alone at one of a few tables scattered around the shop; there are no other customers, and the owner went into the back a few minutes ago. Music plays faintly, and two lights on either side of the shop blink to its beat.  
Next to her lies a bagel (which she’ll probably save until the next time she’s starving) and her laptop. It was the only device she’d taken with her when she ran away. She’d planned on keeping it until it broke or got a virus, but somehow it still works today. The only problem she ever has is when she hasn’t charged it in a while and it dies. Luckily, today her laptop has just enough juice for her to use it.  
She opens the program CI uses to monitor their drones, then puts in a login she stole from some employee a while ago. She checks the drone routes and locates the one that crossed her path, then pulls up all of the day’s drone footage. The live feed pops up, a bunch of videos of the same building. Ryujin clicks past without thinking, goes to the previous cycle of drones and finds the one that recorded her. She pulls it up, rewinds to her appearance - and sighs in relief.  
The lighting is awful. The camera didn’t distinctly catch her face, her clothes, or her noticeable blue hair she hasn’t had a chance to change. CI can’t possibly figure out that it’s her.  
CI - Choi Industries. The name makes Ryujin shudder. Just a bunch of liars and psychos working together under the guise of a “drone tech company” supplying drones to the local police department. They say it’s to “make the city safer for its citizens,” but Ryujin knows it’s only because they want a way to keep the whole city under their constant surveillance without getting caught. And they don’t do that to reduce the city’s crime rate or anything good like that- it’s because they want to find superhumans like Ryujin and eliminate them. Because even though some of these people have never even used their powers to hurt a fly, in CI’s eyes they are even more dangerous than actual criminals.  
And it’s not like Ryujin can complain to the government. After all, superhumans are only real in ancient myths and comic books, and CI is a very reputable company. Why would anyone think they were doing something wrong based only on the word of a teenage girl who’s been labeled time and time again as mentally ill, who if not for a total lack of evidence would have been convicted of…  
No. Don’t think about that.  
Shaking herself out of her mind, Ryujin clicks out of the drone’s footage, returning to the live feed and then to the program’s home page.  
Except this time she glimpses the live feed and frowns. Why are there so many drones in one spot? Usually CI’s patrols - sorry, the police patrols - are spread through the city. The only time she’s seen so many in one place is when… oh, no. When they’re trying to find her.  
Starting to panic, she reopens the live feed. Half of the drones are still outside the building, while the rest are making their way inside. She can't recognize the current location, but she knows the building from earlier- some private school halfway across the city. If CI really is looking for her there, they won’t find her.  
But what if they aren’t? What if they’re looking for someone else?  
Ryujin shakes her head. They can't be. She’s the only target still alive right now, the only superhuman still running-  
She freezes.  
On the screen in front of her, from many different angles, is a girl - Ryujin’s age, wearing a red-and-blue school uniform cleaner than anything Ryujin owns with her brown hair hanging in a high ponytail like the ones Ryujin’s mother gave her when she was little. The girl’s expression is clueless as she glances between the drones surrounding her.  
Ryujin’s eyes widen. What the heck? Hadn’t CI already killed off every other superhuman? Did they somehow find someone else they missed... someone else like Ryujin?


	2. CHAERYEONG - JUST ON MY WAY

While every other student at Chaeryeong’s school is putting on pajamas and brushing their teeth, Chaeryeong packs her work into her backpack and slings it over the blazer she has to wear as part of her uniform. Tightening her ponytail, she turns off the light in her room and steps into the hall two minutes before curfew.   
She won’t bother trying to sleep. There’s no point. She has four homework assignments, two quizzes and one thousand-word essay to complete by tomorrow. Sleeping will just waste her night. The only thing she can do is stay up until the morning and get as much work done as possible. Unfortunately, because of her school's strict lights-out policy and the constant hallway patrols in her dormitory, she’ll get in serious trouble if she tries to study in her room. She has to find somewhere else.  
Chaeryeong moves through hall after hall at a speed closer to a run than a walk, hanging next to the walls while she searches for somewhere to study. But she can’t find any doors other than those that appear to lead into other students’ rooms. She can’t go in one of those.   
What was she thinking? This is the riskiest thing she’s ever done. She’s breaking multiple school rules at one time - she’s not only out of her room right now, but she’ll probably end up studying somewhere that’s supposed to be off limits to students. She doesn’t even know where she’s going - that’s pretty much asking for a detention. Which means the school will call her mother. Chaeryeong is pretty much running through the hallway when she hears a voice call, “Lights out!” She gasps, her eyes widening, and skids to a stop.  
“If I find any of you out of bed…” the monitor mutters as a shadow worms its way toward Chaeryeong. She freezes, spins to a door next to her and pulls hard on its knob. Locked. She pulls as hard as she can as the hall monitor closes in on her, but it still doesn’t budge.  
She has to use her power.  
Chaeryeong releases a tiny wave of energy from her fingertips into the lock on the knob - the door pops open. She throws herself inside and slams the door, trying to quiet her panting as the monitor’s footsteps reach the door, pause… then walk away.   
Exhaling, she turns toward the room she just snuck into. There’s no one else inside, and while there are no lights on, plenty of moonlight streams in from windows near the ceilings. Aside from a strange desk, the only thing in the room is a bunch of… uniforms. Hundreds of other students', hung on racks in the school’s personal dry-cleaning room. (Yeah, Chaeryeong’s school has that much money.)   
She walks up to the desk, which lies in the dead center of the room like it was meant for her to use, and dumps her backpack on it. Exhaling, she plunks down at the desk.   
Tonight is going to go fine. 

Tonight is a disaster.  
Chaeryeong has already spent at least two hours on her math homework and she’s nowhere near finished. The moon keeps shifting and she has to change position every five minutes to get enough light. She’s almost out of coffee. And every time she hears the slightest noise she spends a solid minute panicking and scanning her surroundings.   
She won’t have her work finished by morning. Someone’s going to find her and she’ll be in huge trouble. Her mom is going to be so mad.   
Groaning, she pushes her pencil deeper into her math worksheet. If Precalculus wasn’t so freaking hard, she wouldn’t be having as many problems.  
She drops her pencil and drains the last bit of coffee. Maybe she should just go back to bed- at this rate, she won’t get much else done if she stays. She reaches down to pick her backpack up -   
The lights flicker.   
Chaeryeong freezes, looks up. Nothing happens.   
Why did they flicker? If there was a problem with the lights or electricity or something, the school would have fixed it a while ago, like they do the rest of their problems. This doesn't make any sense.  
Another flicker.  
This time Chaeryeong leaps to her feet, knocking her backpack to the floor. She picks it back up in seconds and starts digging through. Her fingers close around a flashlight. She pulls it out and points it at the ceiling as the lights flicker again.   
Reaching for the strap of her backpack, Chaeryeong starts to panic. What is happening? Is she in trouble? Or is it something worse?  
A buzzing sound echoes from behind her. She turns around and the strap of her backpack slides out of her fingers. A flock of drones - at least ten - flies straight toward her, their cameras glinting like animals’ eyes.   
Chaeryeong doesn’t think. She starts running, sprinting through isles of uniforms with her fingers wound around her flashlight. Her ponytail beats against her back like a whip, pushing her to go even faster. Though she aims for the door leading outside, two drones already hover in front of it. She skids to the right, almost slamming into the wall.  
What the heck is going on?  
She has to get out of here now. But she can’t even get to the only exit - thanks, drones. How is she supposed to avoid them? She can try sliding under them, but what if they crash or fall on top of her and slice her skin open? Or she can keep running until they run out of battery, if she can run for that long.   
Or maybe… no. She’s promised herself she will only use her energy-casting power for absolute emergencies, and she's already used it once today. Using it again would knock her out. And that can’t happen.  
Option B it is, then. Chaeryeong pumps her legs faster in an attempt to get ahead of the drones. By some miracle, they don’t speed up to match. As she rounds one corner and then the next, her legs begin to burn and her breath hitches. Keep running, keep running, she tells herself. But as minutes pass and Chaeryeong becomes more and more exhausted, she knows she has to stop.   
Desperate, she dives into a rack of uniforms beside her and waits for the buzzing to fade. She parts the uniform bags in front of her and pokes her head out - the drones hover in one place, cameras pointed away from her. Whoever pilots them won’t be able to see her.  
She inches out from the racks and creeps toward the door, eyes locked on the drones. Please don’t notice me, she prays -   
One swivels in her direction and the rest start moving  
Stumbling into a run, Chaeryeong makes one more break for the door, the drones’ buzzing like a virus taking over her brain. Even more drones appear out of nowhere and move in front of the door. Crud. Heart pounding, Chaeryeong sucks in a breath and swings a left. Her foot scrapes against the ground and she’s falling, her shoulder hitting the ground hard enough to leave a bruise. She scrambles back to her feet and starts running again, but she can’t keep this up for long. She’s tired and slow and the drones are going to catch her.   
She has to switch to Plan C.  
Chaeryeong calls on the energy flowing through her and feels it building in her fingertips. Her feet plant on the ground and she spins around, extending her arms and sending her power toward the drones. The energy itself is invisible, but the drones’ reaction is the complete opposite- they freeze in midair for a second, then plummet to the ground.  
Silence, except for Chaeryeong panting hard.  
She hesitates before walking over to the drones. They’ve all been bent or dented or damaged in some way, none are even moving. Chaeryeong bends down and picks one up, turning it over to reveal a name stenciled on the side: Choi Industries.  
What? Why would someone use CI drones to chase her?  
Placing the drone back down, Chaeryeong tries to stand, only to be hit by a wave of exhaustion. What did she expect? She can’t expel that much energy and stay conscious. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she sinks to her knees and curls up on the ground; she doesn’t have enough energy in her to resist. She closes her eyes, and before she falls asleep, one thought crosses her mind: What the heck just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the positive reaction to chapter one guys! yep multiple povs. stay tuned for the other members to show up later. also if you didn't check the tags i decided to make twice into some side characters so look out for them in later chapters   
> ok that's all. don't forget to leave kudos if you liked it!


	3. YUNA - REALLY REALLY ME

_Okay, Yuna. You can do this. You just have to get out there, dazzle_ _everyone, and sell the outfit. Simple._

Yuna bites her lip, wrings her hands out. How is she stressed out  _ again?  _ When she was little and dressed up in crazy outfits to parade in front of her mother with them, this was never a problem. But when the stage increases in size, like it always has in Yuna’s childhood dreams, so does the fear Yuna wasn’t aware she had. Now she has to figure out how to shove it down in the next few minutes or she’ll stumble onto the runway with a terrified face and her modeling career will end then and there. 

That can’t happen.

A few feet away, another model slips in front of the pink-tinted glass doors that separate Yuna from the audience watching the show. Vibrant music pulses above her, spotlights glint off the colored glass, and cameras light up the backstage area with flashes faster than lightning. Once this model finishes showing the outfit off, the cute one with the bangs will go, and then it’ll be Yuna’s turn.

She exhales, trying to center herself - then stumbles over her heels. Cursing, she falls for a split second before placing her hands on the glass to steady herself. 

What is up with these shoes? The heels are  _ way _ too long. She’s pretty sure she heard another model complaining about these heels during the last show. It’ll be a miracle if she walks ten feet on the runway in these. Seriously, how is she - 

The cameras begin another round of flashing as the model before Yuna goes inside. Groaning, she glances back at her shoes- they have to go.

She hooks a finger under the heel of one and yanks it off. After removing the other, she drops both shoes and kicks them to the side of the runway, hoping no one will notice.  _ That’s so much better,  _ she thinks. Even though that will probably spawn a lecture from her agent on how models aren't supposed to manage their own styling, she doesn’t care. Anything is better than wearing those awful heels. Besides, as her agent says even more often than he lectures her, “the best models can make nothing but a trash bag look chic.”

Breaking out in a grin, Yuna looks down at the rest of her outfit. She hates the coat she’s wearing - it’s too tight, and it reminds her of a painted cardboard box. But the dress under it, an asymmetrical and sunny-colored beauty, deserves all the attention Yuna can get it. 

She should do something about that too.

Someone shouts her name, tells her she’s on in five seconds. Yuna straightens up, turns toward the doors and the runway beyond it. She takes a breath.

The doors slide open and the music stops. In front of Yuna stretches a shining runway with hundreds of people sitting around it, all of whom stare up at her. Instead of even more panic, Yuna feels a rush of energy, more than any amount of coffee could get her. Part of her wishes to march out there and entertain the crowd for hours, but she only has a couple of minutes. 

So she’ll make it a couple of minutes the crowd will never forget.

She drops her coat and saunters forward, raising her arms over her head. The music begins again and the crowd gasps, flashing cameras and whispering excitedly. Yuna takes it all in with a smile, then slides a hand into the dress’s longer panel, sweeping it outward. Fabric flutters above the crowd, causing a wave of gasps. Stopping at the end of the runway, Yuna blows a kiss at the paparazzi, then bends down so they can get a closer picture of her.

If only this could last forever. After a moment, she has to stand again and walks back down the runway. She can hear the crowd murmuring behind her, and as much as she wants to turn around and give them more, she can’t. 

What she can do is glance back and send them a wink. 

After, Yuna retreats backstage and the glass behind her slides shut. She exhales, rocks from the balls of her feet to her heels… then stops as she sees her agent walking toward her. He doesn’t look happy. 

She flinches as he begins to scold her. “Shin Yuna-”

“Magnificent!” interrupts the show’s designer, a man with a huge mustache and the sme bulky sweater Yuna once saw him wearing in the middle of a heat wave. He rushes toward her, her coat draped over one of his arms and her heels in the opposite hand. He opens his mouth and says something in an accent so thick she can only understand a few words: “You… amazing… never stop… magazines…” All the while Yuna only smiles at him, pretending she understands.

Finally her agent clears his throat, then points to the other models lined up for one last walk down the runway. The designer stops talking, eagerly shoves the heels and coat into Yuna‘s arms, and pushes her into line.

All the other models stand straight up and stare right in front of them. Yuna can imagine their plain expressions, perfected by years in the industry.

_ Boring.  _

Though Yuna does straighten up to match their postures, she adds her own dazzling smile. Because she’s Shin Yuna, for goodness’ sake. She can do whatever she wants.

  
  
  


After the show ends and Yuna changes into normal clothes, she meets with her bodyguard so he can escort her to her limo. They’re not close - Yuna has never had a proper conversation with him or learned his name - but her agent says that a guard is necessary for a model who’s as popular as she is. 

Together, they step out of the show venue and are met by a crowd of paparazzi and cheering fans. While the bodyguard grunts and tries to clear a path for Yuna, she smiles and blows kisses at them, giving them what they want. The bodyguard remains directly in front of her, shoving his way through the crowd to the limousine behind the curb. Finally he opens the door and helps her inside, where a driver waits for her. The guard clears the road in front of her, and the limo drives off.

As the car drives further away from the crowd, Yuna feels her once-high energy level begin to drop, lower and lower until the crowd vanishes from view and Yuna’s exhausted, feeling like she hasn’t slept in days. 

It’s weird. While most people’s energy level depends on things like how much sleep they get or how much coffee they drink, Yuna’s has always been how many people paying attention to her (though caffeine doesn’t hurt). When she‘s in front of a crowd, she never feels even one bit tired, only energized enough to spend days in front of them. But when she’s alone like right now, she’s just…  _ tired _ .

Yuna sighs and begins to scan the limo, looking for anything that’s different. It’s all the same. There’s the same plushy seats lining the long side, the same TV in the corner Yuna never bothers to use, the same mini fridge waiting for her in the corner. Sighing, she gives in and grabs a packet of M&Ms from inside and tears them open.

Her agent would never approve of her eating habits, but he’s not here, is he?

Popping a handful of candies in her mouth, Yuna closes her eyes and lays back. Finally, time to relax… 

Energy spikes inside her - not much, but just enough to let her know a single person is watching her. 

Yuna opens her eyes and glances around for the source. It’s not the driver - she’s focused on the road in front of her. So Yuna tries something else - she closes her eyes, concentrates on the attention flowing towards her, then opens her eyes and stares at the source,

At first she doesn’t see anyone, just a darkened street corner, but soon she notices someone there - a shadow dressed in all black watching Yuna with dark eyes. 

The shadow looks away, and the last bit of Yuna’s energy dissolves. She sighs and closes her eyes again. 

She knows that’s not normal. When she was younger, she thought having energy based on attention was something a good chunk of the population could do - maybe it was an extrovert thing. But when she learned she could trace where the attention was coming from among other things, she realized that wasn’t true.

It’s a sad excuse for a superpower. In the superhero movies Yuna loves watching, the stars always have abilities like flight, enhanced strength, and aptitude with weapons (and they have actual muscles!), but Yuna only has some weird attention awareness. And pretty dresses.

Well, at least she’s living her dream of being a model. And she’s killing it. WIth as much success as she has right now, she doesn’t even  _ need  _ superpowers. Right?


	4. LIA - ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?

Lia’s been stuck in the same penthouse for 9 years, so she knows entertainment runs out quickly. She has to be creative to find something to keep herself occupied.

Therefore, when her parents decide to work late  _ again  _ and leave her alone in their penthouse suite with barely anything to do, she has to turn to the doll she used to play with when she was younger. (Well, that isn’t exactly true. More accurately, her mother would hold the doll at a distance for Lia to look at.) Up close, the doll is even more perfect than it appeared to Lia during her childhood. She expects there to be at least one tiny chip in its peach-painted skin, or a thread loose on its lacy dress, or a few strands of hair sticking out of its curls. However, the doll doesn’t even have one flaw. 

It makes Lia’s stomach turn. 

Sighing, she turns the doll over and her eyes fix on something protruding from its back: a shining silver key, the kind that could be found in a music box. It’s not the kind of thing you’d put on a toy meant for a child, but that’s what Lia grew up with - toys more like decorations that she couldn’t even touch. Now, long after she had outgrown dolls, her parents don’t worry about keeping it out of her hands. But when she passed by it in the hallway earlier, she couldn’t help but pick it up from its perch and take it with her. 

Now Lia reaches for the key, as excited as she would be if it takes her to another world. She twists it - a single melody echoes from inside the doll. She’d heard its song long ago, but since then she’d forgotten it. It ignites memories inside her, though not happy ones. Images come in a flash - the corner of her bed, her mother’s face.

One lingers a moment later than the rest, though. In this one, the doll’s song grows farther away from Lia as her mother joins her father in front of a laptop. 

Lia takes a breath, trying to think of affirmative messages.  _ It’s fine. They were just busy. This happens all the time and you don’t mind.  _ But she can’t help but think they haven't been any less busy since. 

Trying to distract herself, she twists the key again and again. The doll’s melody swells again, but this time Lia listens to its echo off the walls of the dining room. She spins the key to the beat, letting the song continue. Memories threaten to take her attention again, but this time she tries to hold them back. The two wills inside her - one to remember, one to forget - push against each other inside her mind, building a contradicting force inside her. The force fills her mind, her body - 

The doll’s song stops abruptly as the key slides out of it, abandoned in Lia’s hand. 

She exhales sharply, drops the doll and looks up. Wide-eyed, she scans her surroundings to make sure no one saw her. Thankfully, she’s alone.

The doll is broken.  _ Lia _ broke it. Her parents will never trust her again. 

Taking a breath, she picks up the doll and key again and tries to fit them together. The key goes in, but as soon as she releases it, it tumbles back out.

Lia rises from the ground with a sigh, placing the broken doll onto a nearby chair, and makes her way into the kitchen the next room over. Like the rest of the house, its lack of stains or items on the counters make it look like a showroom kitchen rather than one that’s been lived in. The only thing on the counters is an old-fashioned phone, the only one Lia is allowed to use. She picks it up, hesitates, then dials her father’s number.

Voicemail, as always. She doesn’t bother leaving a message. 

After a moment, Lia dials another number, this time her mother. She picks up three rings later. “Yes?”

“Mom, it’s me.” Lia bites her lip. “Listen, I- ” 

“Honey, what are you doing up so late? What time is it?”

Lia glances at a nearby clock. “Almost ten, but- ”

“Go to bed, honey. It’s late. You need a full night of sleep.”

“Mom, wait!”

“No, I mean it. Unless this is an emergency, go to sleep.”

_ Sigh.  _ “Okay.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon, Jisu.”

Lia flinches at her mother’s use of her real name, then opens her mouth to try and get a word in - 

But her mother hangs up.

  
  
  
  


Lia used to call it bad luck. Then she called it clumsiness, a term her parents coined first. But now, reviewing all the instances of this strange pattern in her dreams, she knows it’s something else. 

It’s not just the doll. Lia watches as images flash through her dream - herself crying in the middle of shards of glass, toddling up to her father with his once-locked doorknob in her hand, glaring at her parents as they tested out a drone seconds before it crashed.

She’s broken too many things for the pattern to be called a coincidence. 

The images vanish and Lia is lying in bed, awake in the dark. She glances around the lightless room, struggling to make sense of the shadows. And then, across the room, she notices light glowing around the outline of her door

She slides out of bed and pulls on her robe. She tiptoes across the carpet, opens the door a tiny crack and listens for any sound. Though she can’t make out exact words, she can hear her parents’ voices and the coffee maker whirring. 

Squinting back at her clock, Lia sees that the time is 4:47. Her parents are leaving for work early and coming back late, just like they always do. All she wants is to spend some time with them - is that too much to ask?

Well, she  _ could  _ go downstairs and spend time with them right now. 

Lia looks up at the ceiling and considers it. It doesn't take long. A second later, she opens the door and starts heading downstairs. 

Her parents are sitting in the kitchen, eating breakfast from one of the less expensive sets of china. As Lia approaches, her father takes a swig of black coffee, then sees her coming and chokes. Mrs. Choi rushes to his aid, but he just waves her off. She finally notices Lia and frowns. “Jisu! What are you doing up so early!”

“Um… I heard you guys and- ”

“Go back to bed, Jisu,” her father says, not looking up from his plate. 

“Your father is right.” Mrs. Choi’s eyes narrow. “You shouldn't be up right now.”

“Sorry.” Lia looks at the ground. “I just thought- ”

“You thought wrong.” Mr. Choi glares at his wife, as if their daughter’s behavior is somehow her fault. 

Lia’s mother clears her throat. “Go back upstairs. We won’t tell you again.”

The youngest Choi takes a breath. 

“ _ Now,  _ Jisu.” 

Sighing, Lia turns away and heads for the stairs. She’s halfway up when she decides to look back at her parents. Her mother isn’t looking at her; her eyes are glued to her phone. Her father, however, glares at her over his coffee cup. 

Lia looks away and retreats to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes well um if you didn't realize it i completely forgot to post a chapter last week so i posted two. haha im sorry
> 
> 9/1 update: did i juts jump to 100 hits in less than 24 hours? WHOA


	5. YEJI - TURN THIS BEAT UP

Surprisingly, Yeji is starting to regret sneaking into the club. 

It seems like a good idea when she decided to come here earlier that night. She’s had her eyes on it for a while and knows there’s some special event going on. And it isn't like her uncle’s going to finally install locks on her window to keep her from going in. 

Getting in is simple. All she has to do is turn on her power and walk through the door. The bouncer doesn’t notice; neither does the couple going in or anyone in line. Yeji makes it inside and can almost feel the chains she’s had around her for years falling off, even though she knows they'll return when she leaves before sunrise.

The serenity ends when she looks up at the crowd. Everyone else is wearing some sort of hideous, neon-colored costume. Yeji just has a white blazer, a striped shirt, and trousers. No one is looking at her, but she still feels completely out of place even though there’s nowhere else for her to go. 

She walks closer to the center of the crowd. The crowd bends around her, allowing her a comfortable bubble of space even though they don’t consciously register that she’s there. Thankfully, her power keeps her from getting trampled.

Deep in the center of the crowd, she turns a circle and takes in the room round her. People are crammed into every bit of space, all smiling dumbly like they’ve never experienced suffering ( _ idiots,  _ Yeji thinks). Above the crowd, lights burn every color from red to violet as they sweep the club like searchlights. There are bouncers guarding every way in and out, but Yeji’s not afraid- they’ll only see her if she wants them to. 

_ Nothing is going to happen,  _ she tells herself.  _ You came here to…  _ relax, _ so go ahead. You have the whole night to yourself.  _

She lets the crowd come a few centimeters closer, then shifts from one foot to the other, trying to get into the beat of the pounding music above her. 

Yeji knows that these clubs being her only source of freedom and enjoyment, she should enjoy them a bit more.  _ Nope _ . She’s still as awkward as she was years ago (that being: all these people make her want to throw up). Still there’s only one alternative to shoving herself in the middle of this crowd: staying alone, like she’s always been ever since her parents’ death. 

_ No. That’s not helping.  _ She blinks, trying to pull herself away from her negative mood.  _ You have to let go. You have to chill.  _

A pulsing song comes on, one of the girl groups Yeji’s uncle blasts all the time. Like his taste in music, it’s pretty bad: an annoying intro, high-pitched vocals, romantic lyrics. Yeji frowns as the singing starts. Even though she hasn’t sang in a while, she could do better than this.

Yeji’s lips tease up a tiny bit, and that little of a change makes her steps lighter, her movements bigger. The song moves into the chorus and Yeji decides it’s not as bad as she thought. She begins dancing for real, allowing the crowd to form a tight circle around her. Now she can finally unwind. 

Hours pass. Yeji parties like she doesn’t have a care in the world. She smiles for the first time in forever, whipping her hair around as she tries her best to remember girl group dances she learned years before. Her power weakens and weakens until she isn’t using it anymore, but she doesn’t care. Even when she gets tired a little after midnight, she keeps going. Yeji would spend a lifetime in the club if she could. But she only has until closing time. 

It comes fast. One minute Yeji is dancing in the dark, then the lights are on and a loud voice instructs everyone to exit. Groans and muttering erupt as the crowd shuffles toward the doors, forcing Yeji to follow. 

When the crowd clears, Yeji is on her own again.

She stands under a streetlamp, watching the other partygoers leave on each others' arms. They still smile, still laugh. Yeji has to head home alone, and she hasn’t smiled there in over a decade. 

She’d still be trapped in there if not for the teenage rebellion that kicked in a few years ago. But that doesn’t get her anywhere. Nothing will - she is still trapped no matter how far she ran. 

Sighing, Yeji looks across the street at the apartments towering over the nearby road and the fire escape bolted to its side. The place where she, unfortunately, has to live. 

She breathes out the last of her false high of freedom as she begins walking back to her jail cell of an apartment. 

  
  
  
  


After a climb that involves a dumpster, rickety fire escape steps, and a drainpipe, Yeji sweeps into her room and carefully closes the window. She exhales and turns back toward the rest of the room, flicking up a switch next to her. It triggers a chain reaction of lights switching on in her room, casting purple and gold lights onto her walls. She lifts the blanket on her headboard and peeks at the “Breakthrough” poster and random decals she’s hiding behind it before putting it back. She turns around, scanning her room to see if her uncle had moved anything while she was away; luckily, everything seems to be where it’s meant to be. Yeji exhales in relief - her uncle hasn’t yet messed up the one thing in her life she actually can control.

She makes her way into the adjoining bathroom, takes off her party clothes and buries them at the bottom of her hamper. After pulling on her pajamas, she scrubs all the makeup off her face and runs her fingers through her hair so it looks like it's been slept in rather than sprayed and straightened. To finish her routine, Yeji pulls the bottom drawer completely out of the vanity and tucks her makeup wipes away along with the rest of the makeup and hair products she bought with the credit card her uncle thought he lost. 

Once she replaces the drawer, she heads over to her bed. She’s about halfway there when her foot catches on nothing but carpet. Her knee slams against the ground; a second later, she scrambles back up. Cursing internally, she clambers onto her bed and shoves her feet into the covers. 

Footsteps stomp down the hallway, followed by the sound of her uncle muttering. 

_ Calm down,  _ Yeji tells herself.  _ He’ll only know if you act like something happened.  _ She lays her head on her pillow and closes her eyes just as her bedroom door blasts open. Her lights flick on and her uncle roars, “What are you doing up at 3:30, you little-”

She opens her eyes and gives him the “you just woke me up” glare she’s perfected over the years.

Realizing nothing happened (at least, that's what he thinks), Yeji’s uncle exhales, eyes shifting around the room for anything he can criticize her for. Yeji keeps glaring at his flab-coated excuse for a body, trying to keep herself from gagging on his cigarette cologne.    
Finally he points one weiner of a finger at Yeji, warning her, “Don’t try anything.” Then he leaves. 

Yeji exhales and closes her eyes again.  _ Good freaking riddance.  _


	6. RYUJIN - MOVE UP FASTER

It’s only during emergencies that Ryujin decides to pay for public transportation. This  _ definitely  _ counts as an emergency.

She’s alone in the back of the bus, staring at the blurred street beyond her as she runs through the images from the previous night in her head. She’d seen the drones close in on that girl. The girl struggled to escape - until she’d turned around and all the screens went dark. 

The girl has to have caused that. There’s no other logical explanation. She has telekinesis or some other power than nobody could see. And, somehow, CI found her.

Ryujin still can’t believe it. The last CI target had been killed before Ryujin ran away. For a long time, she thought she was the only superhuman left in the city. And then this girl showed up. If she really is superhuman - which she  _ has _ to be - Ryujin has to find her and tell her CI’s true intentions. Ryujin wishes she’d had someone to tell her the truth the day the Chois had shown up at her middle school. 

The bus screeches to a stop and Ryujin falls forward, almost smashing into the seat in front of her. When she sits back up, her vision blurs with the seat’s bright red color and her lungs fill with a cigarette haze. Her fingers wrap around the pole next to her to steady herself, but in doing so, her shoulder slams into that of the scowling businessman next to her. He pulls off his headphones and glares at Ryujin. Mumbling an apology, she looks away, all the while inwardly cursing the lack of space between the seats. Her chin tilts up and her eyes catch the ads hovering above her, specifically that of a smiling police officer holding a Choi drone. She scowls, moves her eyes to the route map. Her eyes narrow as she scans it. Where is the bus now, and when will it reach - 

Her eyes pop open. This is her stop.

She cries out, jumping to her feet. The driver sighs and opens the doors again. “Thanks,” Ryujin calls before her feet slam against the sidewalk and she’s out.

Being outside isn’t any better. The sun hangs over Ryujin’s head, washing the streets in a light brighter than anything she’s ever experienced in a while. Cars whizz by only a meter away; people pack every space on the sidewalk. It’s definitely not the place Ryujin wants to be, but she has to brave it for that girl’s sake. 

As she makes her way through the busy streets, Ryujin stares at the skyscrapers reaching up above her. Some are for banks, some for big companies, but they’re not what Ryujin’s looking for. It takes a minute of walking and a lot of dodging people, but soon she finds what she’s looking for: the Somebody Important Preparatory School for Gifted and Probably Rich Children. (Okay, that’s not the place’s actual name. But in her opinion, what she came up with is pretty spot on.)

The school isn’t nearly as big as the buildings around it, but it’s definitely newer. Glass curls around the front of the building, creating an enormous sculpture that weaves in and out of the building. Students in red-and-blue uniforms line the path that connects the school to the main road; they give Ryujin strange looks sas she passes. It might be the multicolored, patterned jacket, fake Versace shirt, and black shorts she’s wearing, but that doesn’t matter.

Ryujin spots the doors into the school, her ticket in - and two guards with the CI logo glinting on their chests flanking the doors, nodding at students as they pass. She curses - what are they doing here?

She has to get to that girl  _ now. _

Attempting to keep a plain face, Ryujin walks up to the doors. She locks eyes with one guard as she passes before she looks down at the handle and reaches for it.

The guard clears his throat. Ryujin looks up, heart pushing against her chest. This is where it ends.

“You must be the new kid,” the guard says, scanning Ryujin’s outfit. 

“Wh- Yes,” Ryujin lies quickly.

For a second, the guard’s eyes narrow at Ryujin, then he opens the door for her. “Welcome.” 

She gives him a quick nod, then hurries into the building and never looks back.

  
  
  
  


Ryujin would  _ not _ want to go here. 

Even though the students seem to buy into her being the new student, they all watch with narrowed eyes like at any second she’ll pull out a knife. ( _ Note to self, _ Ryujin thinks:  _ get a knife.) _ Their whispers cut through her skin, the distance they keep from her making her cold. Now more than ever, Ryujin wants this done as fast as she can. Her eyes dart from one person to the next, scanning for the ponytailed girl from last night. She doesn’t seem to be there. Where is she? Is she even here, or is Ryujin too late?

“Excuse me, are you lost?” someone snaps behind her.

Ryujin turns to see a uniformed girl standing behind her, waving a phone around in one hdn. She blows strands of dark hair out of her face. “Are you the new girl?”

“Yep,” Ryujin lies.

The girl’s scowl deepens. “Really? Well, come on. I'll take you to the office.”

She tramps off, leaving Ryujin no choice but to follow. They walk through hallways lined by some orange-brown wood, up a glossy building, and past the center of the building, in which all of the floors overlook nother sculpture on the ground floor. Ryujin searches for the signs of destroyed ceilings and peeling wallpaper she’s always associated with school, but the building has none of that. How is this even a school?

Eventually they reach the office, which is the standard chairs-and-doors ensemble Ryjuin expects. “Wait here,” the girl says, waving a hand to the row of chairs against the wall before tramping off. Ryujin opens her mouth, almost asking the girl what she should do now - and then she closes it. She shouldn’t draw attention to herself. She needs to get in, inform the girl, and get out before anyone realizes she isn’t who she claims to be.

Ryujin looks around to make sure that girl isn’t in the office, only to catch the glares of the kids sitting around her. She pales and turns to leave- 

A voice stops her in her tracks.

“Before we… discuss last night’s events, I need to make sure you won’t discuss this with anyone else.” 

A door closes, cutting off the voice. Ryujin’s fingers tense. If that’s who she thinks it is, then why would Choi Kwan be here in person?

She sinks into a chair, trying not to draw attention to herself as she stares into the room where the voice came from. Through the window, she can see him - his tight suit, his narrowed eyes, his hands free from the blood Ryujin knows should be on them. Though he faces Ryujin, his eyes are on someone across from him. Ryujin shifts to see who it is and catches a flash of a brown ponytail.

Ryujin chokes.  _ It’s her _ . Choi came to talk to the girl in person, just like he did with Ryujin years ago. The only reason she’s alive today is because during that meeting, she was smart enough to realize he wasn't telling her everything. 

All she can do now is hope that this girl is smart enough to figure it out too.


	7. CHAERYEONG - DO WHAT I WANT

When Chaeryeong wakes up the next morning, all she wants to do is go about her day like nothing happened. She doesn’t even get to her room before she hears her name on the loudspeaker, forcing her to head to the office when she really wants to be alone.

As soon as she's at the office, everyone there points her toward the meeting room, where students only go if they’ve done something  _ wrong _ . Chaeryeong tenses as she enters the room, expecting a strict teacher or even the headmaster inside; however, all she finds are three strangers. Two bodyguards in black standing against the back wall, and a man in an expensive-looking suit who presides over the empty table with his spine pointing straight up.

“Miss Lee,” he says to Chaeryeong, gesturing at the chair across from him. “Please sit.” 

She does, pressing her knees together as soon as she’s off her feet.

“So, you are Lee Chaeryeong, I assume,” the man says. “I assume you know who I am.”

Chaeryeong leans forward, squinting as she tries to remember his face - and then she doesn. He was in a newscast a while ago, unveiling a drone with his partner. His wife. This is the guy who owns Choi Industries. 

“Wait, did you send those drones after me?” Chaeryeong gasps.

Mr. Choi purses his lips. “Miss Lee, before we… discuss last night’s events, I need to make sure you won’t discuss this with anyone else.” He snaps a finger at his guards; one moves to the door and closes it, and the other removes a form from his vest and hands it to Choi. The form then moves to Chaeryeong. 

She frowns at it. “You want me to sign a confidentiality agreement?”

“I want to talk to you about a… project that we have yet to announce to the public. I wouldn’t want it to get out before we’re ready.” Choi pulls out a pen and taps it on the form.

Cheryeong hesitates for a moment, then takes the pen and scrawls her name on the form. She needs to know the truth about last night over everything else. 

After, Mr. Choi tucks the form and pen away, then steeples his fingers. “Well, about last night… I hope there weren’t any hard feelings.”

Chaeryeong frowns. “Your drones terrified me. I didn’t understand what was happening and- ”

“I’m sorry for that. But to perform my experiment, I needed you to be in the dark. Otherwise it wouldn’t have worked properly.”

“Experiment? Don’t you need permission to perform an experiment on me?”

Mr. Choi chuckles. “The point is that this program, even though it may not seem like it, is meant for the greater good.”

“The greater good? Experimenting on random kids without their consent is for the greater good?”

“Not random kids.” Mr. Choi’s eyes glint like he’s sharing a joke with Chaeryeong. She frowns, thinking harder - then she freezes.  _ The drones. _ They were recording the whole time, and Choi saw her using her power. He knows.

“Now you know why we must keep this a secret,” he says. “There’s more than just my company’s secrets at stake.”

“So… what’s the point of this experiment? You get leverage over us and we have to do exactly as you say?”

“No.” Choi laughs. “The experiment doesn’t work that way. No, we respect our participants… as long as they respect us.”

Chaeryeong frowns. “Huh?”

“Let me put this in simpler terms. As long as you don’t use your… talent against our company, we will give you all the freedoms you desire.”

“But what’s in it for me? Do I even get a say in this? And my mom, does she know?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Choi muses.

“I want to know what I’m getting into.”

“Very well, then. Your mother only has to know if you want her to. Otherwise we can call this an internship, if you will. Or an extracurricular activity… whatever you wish. And it would be better for everyone, including yourself, if you did participate in the experiment.”

“How?” Chaeryeong’s fingers curl around the arm of her chair.

Choi stares at her, dark eyes glinting. “Why spoil the fun?”

“Because if I don’t know everything...” Chaeryeong presses her lips together. That was her fears talking, not her. If she lets this guy know how much they control her life, he’s sure to use it against her in some way.

Choi’s lips twitch. “I assure you, nothing is going to happen.”

“Then what? What  _ will  _ happen?”

He sighs. “All I want to do is test your ability. To see if you serve any danger to the people around you.”

“Danger? I’m not- I’m not dangerous.”

“I’m just making sure.”

“I swear, I would  _ never _ hurt anything, not even a fly. Trust me. Or since you’re so big on trust, ask anyone who knows me.”

Choi says nothing; he kept staring at Chaeryeong with slitted eyes. She takes a breath. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I can't go through this unless I’m absolutely certain I can trust you and your program. It’s a no.”

He chuckles. “This isn’t the sort of thing you can turn away from.”

“And this isn't the sort of thing you can rope a minor into without her parents knowing! Isn’t that… I don’t know, illegal?”

“Would you prefer if I had your mother’s permission?

“Yes. Maybe.” Chaeryeong bites her lip.

“All right, then.” Mr. Choi nods. “I will get your mother’s consent, and you will reconsider.”

_ It can’t be that simple,  _ Chaeryeong thinks, but again, she keeps the thought to herself. She nods and rises from the table. “Okay.”

“Thank you for your time, Miss Lee.” Choi gestures at the door; the guard next to it opens it for Chaeryeong. 

She’s out of the room before her brain registers that she moved.

  
  
  


Chaeryeong tells herself she left school because she needed to clear her head. That’s not true. Ten minutes of thinking won’t fix anything.

She passes hordes of her classmates and never looks up at them. She only looks up when she's out on the street and part of a crowd buzzing with words she can’t hear. She burns, a thousand questions ignited in her mind, with nothing that can put them out in sight.

Until a hand lands on her shoulder. Chaeryeong whirls around, adrenaline igniting inside her. It’s not him, but some blue-haired girl Chaeryong’s age.

Her first instinct is to tell the girl, “Excuse me,” and then turn away. But the girl follows after her, saying, “I know the truth about Choi.”

Chaeryeong freezes. Slowly, she turns around. “You know about the experiment?”

“It’s not an experiment.” The girl swallows. “It’s a death trap.”

“A…” Chaeryeong’s eyes widen. “What?”

“The Chois will push you further and further in the name of their experiments. What it all boils down to is this: either you die in an ‘accident,’ or you die because you’re ‘dangerous.’ There is no way out, no matter how long you last or how far you…” The girl presses her lips together. “Anyways, just thought I’d warn you.”

“Warn me? But- Who are you, and how do you know about all of this?” 

The girl takes a breath before she responds. “I know because… because I went through this too. Three years ago.” 

Chaeryeong blinks; a second passes. She swallows and opens her mouth. “Tell me  _ everything  _ you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhahahah im sorry it took so long to to update this but im finally back with two chapters and hopefully i can stick to regularish updates from now on lol  
> also if anyone wants to talk about l di da i am up for it sksksksk


	8. YUNA - LIVE HOW WE WANNA

The best thing about Yuna’s days off is that there are no rules. 

She wakes up before dawn, makes herself a huge stack of Eggos and glass of orange juice, and goes outside to enjoy the sunrise. The morning is warm but not too hot, and even before the sun rises, the streets buzz with quiet energy. Soon enough, an orange orb breaks over the horizon, painting the sky in honey and lilac, and the energy in the city bursts. Streets fill with cars, sidewalks fill with people, and Yuna’s tiny world is awake.

Yuna would love to go down to the streets and join them, but she can’t. When she signed her contract, her mother forced her agent to keep her inside her apartment except for supervised outings. So she stays up here. Alone. Though a companion who actually spoke to her would be nice. Someone who she could show the two wicker chairs she spray-painted herself, or the rug she worked her butt off to afford, or the random tropical decor she bought from the dollar store after spending most of her money on said rug. 

She’s proud of her collection of weird furniture, she just doesn’t have anyone to share it with. 

Loneliness fills her throat, draining the taste of orange juice from her mouth. She swallows and sets the glass down. Her eyes fix on the blue staining most of the sky.

She walks back into her apartment and dumps her unfinished breakfast on the table. Breezing past it, she moves a book off the couch and crashes down. 

Silence. Yuna exhales, attempting to fill it, but she doesn’t feel comfortable. She sits back up, grabs her phone and scrolls through her music to try and find something to fill the silence. 

No, that doesn’t feel right. She needs to talk to someone. She moves to her contacts and skims through - family, work, some friends from her old school. Eventually she finds someone and taps their name. As always, the phone doesn’t even have time to ring before a voice answers, “Yuna?”

“Hi, Mom.” Yuna smiles. “How are you?”

“How am I? What about you?” Her mother’s voice rises. “You haven’t called in a while. I thought something happened.”

“No, I’m fine. Sorry. I just haven't had a chance to call in a while, I’m really busy.”

“Okay… But not too busy?”

“ _ Mom.” _ Yuna sighs and presses a hand to her forehead. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”

There’s a pause before Mrs. Shin replies. “Good.”

“So how are you and Dad?”

“We’re… managing. Nothing has changed since your last call. How about you?”

“Me? Uh… Nothing’s really changed on my end, either.”

“Well, no news is good news, no? Well… will you be visiting home soon? I’m starting to worry that if you’re too busy to visit…”

“ _ Mom. _ I promised you I’d come as soon as my schedule cleared. But I need at least two days for a proper visit, you know. Just wait a little longer, and I’m sure my schedule will clear up.”

“Well, you had better…” Mrs. Shin’s voice trails off as another voice chatters in the background. Yuna’s mother sighs. “I must go, Yuna. Your father needs me to get groceries.”

“I understand, Mom.” Yuna sighs. “Love you.”

“I love you too. Any time you are free, you call me, okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Yuna hangs up the call and exhales. 

This is better. Not perfect, but better. 

Yuna grabs her headphones from a table nearby, plugs them in and starts playing a summery song. At least now that she’s not feeling sad anymore, she can just… relax. 

  
  
  
  


Relaxation lasts exactly seventeen seconds. 

Right after Yuna sets her head down, her phone rings again. She moans, buries her head under the pillow and only comes back up when it stops. 

A couple of seconds later, it rings again. Yuna reluctantly concepts the call. “Yeah?”

“Reviews are in,” her agent says.

She winces. “How are they?”

“Mixed. The ones that like you call your stunt last night a ‘genius styling move.’ The ones that didn’t like you…”

“They hated it, didn’t they?”

“‘A decent dress ruined by a bad model.’ That’s what the nicest one said.”

“Ugh. Well… there will always be critics, right?”

“Yuna, there are critics because you give them something to criticize! If you’d kept your shoes and coat on like you were meant to, they wouldn’t be so harsh.”

“They’ll find something wrong no matter what I wear,” she mutters.

“ _ Shin Yuna _ .”

“FIne. I’m sorry. I won’t do something like that again.” 

“Do you promise?”

“ _ Yes _ .” Yuna buries her head in her hands. 

Her agent scoffs. “I plan to ensure you don’t break that promise.”

The call ends. Immediately Yuna sits up, switching her phone to “Do Not Disturb” mode. The room falls into silence.

Finally, Yuna is beginning to feel comfortable in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah um bonus thing i forgot to tell yall: the girl who annoys the c**p out of ryujin in this chapter is mildly inspired by cheer up nayeon. stay tuned for more cheer up-inspired cameos hehehehehehe
> 
> also i will die every single day until eyes wide open comes out and then some


End file.
